Weird Weird West
by KColl2003
Summary: Xander, Faith, and their friends are forced to travel back to the Old Frontier to save the world now.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **This story encapsulates two related genres – westerns &amp; weird westerns, taking in such varied influences as the From Dusk Til Dawn series, 6th gun, and Howard Hawks &amp; John Ford westerns which also xovering with urban fantasy.

Title: Weird Weird West

Rating: R

Story: Action\Adventure

Feedback: In lieu of a Faithbot yeah.

E-Mail: KeithColl

Disclaimer: None of the chars involved belong to me, nor do I seek to make a profit from my usage of these characters.

** 1.**

London 2010

"The explosion at one of Germany's major power stations devastated near-by Dresden and spread pollution miles in every direction. Accident investigators in haz-mat suits are currently on-site, but although terrorism is suspected, human error or mechanical failure cannot be ruled out."

"Good lord." Giles stared numbly at the TV as he turned it off. Ever since he could recall the world had been going to hell, the Cold War, corrupt politicians, growing drugs epidemics, and an unceasing wave of Islamic terrorism.

It certainly made his efforts in the supernatural world seem increasingly pointless. After the Mass Calling, things had slowed in the supernatural world for a while, vampires and minor demons unable to cope with the sudden wave of Slayers. But in 2006, Wolfram &amp; Hart had become more active in their opposition, and the hardliners, the Shadow Council were lurking in the darkness making plans.

It was far from the better world he'd hoped that would arise from Sunnydale's ashes.

Giles narrowed his eyes, an all-too familiar acidic ball forming in his belly, the sacrifices he'd made, the pain he'd endured, and the friends who'd died. "What a bloody waste."

Hearing a knock at the door, Giles took a calming breath. "Come in, please." He managed a welcoming smile when a pant-suited young woman strode in. "Ms. Madison, how may I help you?"

"That report you requested of the Devon Coven &amp; Highlands Circle."

"Ah," Giles barely managed not to snatch the proffered neatly-typed report out of the reformed Sunndydaler and Council Magical Affairs Liaison's hands. Instead he waited until she'd placed it on the 18th century antique desk, a Giles family heirloom, placed between them before grabbing at the document and racing through its contents.

"Is that report correct?" Amy's voice vacillated between hope and disbelief. "The end-times are being caused supernaturally?"

"It's rather more complicated than that, but yes that's the essence," Giles glanced up from the report and then back down.

"But if all we've gone through the last few years was supernaturally caused, doesn't it have a supernatural solution too?" Amy pressed.

Giles bit back a sigh as he reluctantly put the report down. Clearly he wasn't going to get any peace to think until he gave the young woman at least some answers. "According to this report the trouble, you might think of it as an infection, doesn't go back these past few years rather it goes back decades, over a century."

"But do you have a solution?"

Giles forced a smile, Amy was persistent, he'd give her that if nothing else. "I have the beginnings of an idea, nothing more." Giles' smile became rather more genuine as he thought of a reason to distract the young witch. "In fact, it's one you can help me with. I need you to research the following topics for me-." He talked for a couple of minutes, the witch's eyes widening with his words until he finished with. "On your way out, could you send Andrew in please?"

Giles could tell Amy was desperate to ask more questions, but the witch quelled her curiosity with a curt nod, turned and walked out. Seconds later and the door burst open again, heralding the arrival of Giles' highly efficient and highly irritating personal assistant, the younger man having made serving him his redemption.

Personally Giles was far from sure just who of the two of them was serving a redemption. Still, Andrew was a surprisingly effective administrator.

Even as he comforted himself with that thought, the door crashed open and Andrew bounded in. "Greetings Mr. Giles!" Giles resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the younger man's overly-effusive salutation. "And what may I do for you this fine day!"

Giles nodded. "I need you to do some research for us."

"Research?" Andrew beamed. "My favourite thing in the whole wide world. Next to World of Warcraft of course."

"Of course, Giles muttered.

"So what do you want me to research? A ritual? A demon? A vampire?"

"Well for a start," Giles grinned slightly, anticipating his junior's confusion. "Personnel records."

Andrew stared blankly at him. "Huh?"

* * *

New York

"Hey Faith!" Xander blinked as he checked his phone. "Giles wants the pair of us back in England…" Xander peered at the phone before continuing. "We're not the only ones either, according to this, we're to fly over to the California office, pick up somebody, and then fly onto London."

"Oh, Angel is coming in?" Faith beamed, obviously enthused at the idea of seeing her idol.

"No," Xander shook his head, "his son, Connor."

"The son not the father?" Faith's forehead furrowed and her full lips thinned. "Weird."

"Yeah, but I suppose we'll find out why when we get to London," Xander shrugged.

* * *

Sao Paulo

"Huh," Willow stared at her cell trying to make sense of what it said. "That's weird."

"What's weird?" Kennedy mumbled sleepily from alongside her in bed.

"Giles wants us in London, pronto." Willow paused. "And for me to research a time travel spell."

"Time travel?" Kennedy grunted. "Never knew that Giles had a ganja problem."

* * *

Houston

"Honey," Riley turned his attention away from observing Slayer practice, the gym echoing to the thumps of sparring, and looked towards the readout of his cell. "Can you manage things here for a few days? Giles needs me in London."

* * *

Lagos, Nigeria

The brows on Wood's forehead deepened as he read and considered Giles' text before rising and hurrying through to Rona and Vi's room. "Girls," he knocked on the door and waited for an answer before entering, he'd made the mistake of not waiting once before.

Never again.

"Come in, Robin," Rona replied.

"Thanks," he strode in to find the two Slayers sat cross-legged on their shared bed. "I've been called back to England-."

"It'll be those highly questionable expenses reports," Rona barbed.

Vi grinned as she sung. "Somebody's in trouble!"

Wood continued on over the commentary. "So I'll need you two to step in and run the African operation for me while I'm gone."

Vi smiled sunnily back at him. "No problem, Director Wood, sir!"

Wood shook his head. "The continent is doomed."

* * *

Madrid, Spain

Dawn strode out onto her apartment's balcony, utilising the sunlight to re-read her cell's display for the umpteenth time. "Looks like I'm going back to England."

* * *

London

Giles looked up from his note-taking as Andrew burst into his office. "Mr. Wells," he fixed his administrative assistant with the steeliest gaze he could manage, "I trust you have a reason for this intrusion." He paused for a beat before continuing. "A very good one."

Andrew momentarily wilted then beamed. "Everybody has confirmed they're coming in. I've also done some net research and found reputable currency dealers, western outfitter retailers, and replica firearms dealers who I've ordered from."

"What have you ordered?" Giles peered over the neatly typed pages Andrew passed him. "This seems more than satisfactory. How much-." Giles shook his head. "Doesn't matter, it's a rush job of the utmost importance. Put a note on the invoices indicating I've already approved payment to the Accounts Department. And when are they being delivered? I'd like to check everything before we do the spell."

Andrew hesitated before answering. "I had them sent to our NY office so the Slayers could bring them up to meet us when we land in Washington, that way we don't have to worry about getting weapons through customs. I know we have diplomatic immunity, but even so, these things can get complicated."

Giles smiled and nodded. "Very efficient, Andrew." Giles paused. "Have rooms been readied at the mansion for our guests?"

"I instructed Housekeeping on my way here." Andrew preened momentarily before hurrying out.

"Always anticipating," Giles praised, a smile playing on his lips. Andrew could be a wittering pain, but as a personal assistant he was worth his weight in gold.

Now all he had to do was explain the plan to the others, and put it into action. As a historian he bitterly regretted his advanced years, this was one venture he'd love to be more personally involved in.


	2. Chapter 2

**2.**

Giles smiled as Andrew closed the conference room behind the last of his carefully selected guests, his assistant rushing over to take his seat around the long table opposite Giles. "Thank you all for coming here. I've made a rather shocking discovery." He paused for a second, gathering his thoughts before continuing. "Since time immemorial, since the days before man walked the earth, since even before the days the Old Ones ruled, there was the Five Horsemen. Who they are and where they come from is shrouded in mystery, all is known that they are primordial beings of great power, each represented by a separate weapon. Each weapon is an artefact of great power and together they are more powerful still."

"Huh," Xander stuck a tentative hand up. "Five Horsemen? If Ric Flair taught me anything there's only 4 Horsemen?"

Giles smiled tightly even as he wondered who the bloody hell Ric Flair was. "Some texts name the Four Horsemen as Conquest, War, Famine, and Death, other books change Conquest to Pestilence. The Truth according to most supernatural scholars is somewhat different. Both Conquest &amp; Pestilence exist, so in fact there are five rather than four Horsemen, hence the five weapons."

"The weapons change with the start of each age," Giles continued when there weren't any further questions. "And with the first Civil War in the nation that will be the dominant power of that age. So although I don't know what the earlier ages' weapons were, I do know they were created in The Crises of the Roman Republic from around 134 BC to 44 BC for the Classical Age, during The Anarchy in England for the Middle Ages, the English Civil War for the Renaissance, and the American Civil War for the Modern Age."

"Why a Civil War?"

Giles blinked at Connor's quietly asked query. "If I'm being honest no-body knows for sure. However, my theory is it's the most personal of wars." Seeing bemused looks from his guests, Giles elaborated. "During civil wars, families often split up, fighting on opposing sides, and causing emotional wounds that can take generations to heal. It's my opinion the weapons feed on that very unique, very bitter hatred." Giles shook his head, unwilling to share his still darker theory that the Horsemen somehow forced these wars to feed their need for new weapons. "What happens to the old weapons when a new age begins and fresh weapons are created isn't known. However I've been able to find out just what the weapons of the Modern Age are. Moreover I've discovered that through these weapons, the world has been corrupted from its true path and into a world far worse than the one we should be living in."

"What are these weapons exactly?" queried Riley.

"Bear in mind I don't know which weapons are claimed by which Horsemen. It should be noted, that quite apart from their unique and individual attributes, while handling the weapons is safe, using any of them in a fight is supposed to corrupt souls darker and quicker than a vampire's bite." Giles paused to allow his warning to sink in before continuing. "The first and most notorious of the weapons is the Derringer used by Booth to murder Lincoln. It kills whatever it hits, no matter where they're hit and what species they are. The second weapon is a Sharps rifle used by a Confederate sharp-shooter who specialised in shooting influential Union civilians. That rifle shoots a charge powerful enough to blow up a small car. The third weapon belonged to a Comanche war chief called Chief Bloody Longclaw who took advantage of the war to raid and pillage unprotected homesteads on either side. As long as you're carrying the Tomahawk you're invulnerable to harm. The fourth is a pair of Navy Colts used by a Colonel Lars Karlsen, the leader of a band of union guerrillas. They never need reloading. And finally, a cavalry sabre carried by Captain Donald Fox, the leader of a band of confederate raiders. That can cut through anything and never needs re-sharpening."

Kennedy raised a hand. "And how exactly have these weapons corrupted the world?"

"If the Weapons are gathered and placed together in the Hellmouth Seal," Giles paused to allow the groans die down before continuing. "Whoever places them can influence the course of the world. If you put them in with good intentions, the world is enriched from its normal path. Conversely if you put them in with bad intentions, the world is corrupted from its normal path. That's what the Coven and the Circle believe happened in 1885."

"Who originally put these weapons in?" asked Xander.

"Unknown." Giles shook his head. "All that is known is whoever put them in had bad intentions."

"All this leading to us doing a time travel spell ain't it?" Faith queried.

Giles smiled, pleased at the Bostonian's astuteness. "Just so. I want us, our team, to be the ones taking these weapons and putting them in the Seal. I want our team to be the one shaping this world for a better future."

The room lapsed into a shocked silence that was finally broken by Faith's snort. "Anybody told you you have a small ego? 'Cause they're lying."

Giles smiled wryly. "Perhaps. However I see a chance to change the world for the better and we have to take it."

"How can be you sure 1885's the right year to send us back to?" Riley asked.

"The Weapons and the Seal are both very powerful but very different primal forces. While together they'll have amplified one another's power, they'll also have clashed with one another, meaning while the world started to go wrong at this point, it'll have taken this length of time for the corruption to fully set in, and so 1885 has to have been the year the Weapons were placed within the Seal," Giles paused. "At least that's according to the Devon Coven and Highlands Circle's best magical scholars."

"And where are the Weapons in 1885?" Riley queried.

"That's a little problematic," Giles squirmed in his seat before admitting. "Only the location of the Derringer used in Lincoln's murder is a matter of public record. It's in the Ford theatre turned museum where Lincoln was assassinated. However I've discovered the location of a New Orleans witch of the time who'll be able to do you a location spell to find out just where the other four Weapons are as long as you loan her the Derringer to power the location spell."

"And why have we been selected for this nutty caper?" queried Kennedy.

"Fair question," Giles nodded. "Willow of course will be casting the spell. You, Kennedy will be acting as our anchor, link between those going and the caster. Faith, you studied American history while completing your G.E.D. in prison." He smiled at the suddenly embarrassed-looking brunette. "Improving yourself is nothing to be ashamed of," he gently chided. "Quite the opposite in fact. Connor's Major was in American History, and Riley's Minor was the same. Robin, you studied American Folklore and Native American Mythology, two topics that could come in handy. Dawn, I want Willow to be able to utilise your Keyness and teleportation abilities to 'teleport' the team through time. Michael and Amy, you will serve as magical batteries for the spell." Giles paused. "However Xander is somewhat of a mystery, his CV or resume as you yanks say alludes to one of his hobbies being 'studying the wild west', but I'm a little unclear about what that exactly means?"

Xander squirmed in his seat, cheeks flushing. "Yeah, 'bout that, my Uncle Rory, before he turned into a full-time drunk was a real western buff. I read a ton of books and he took me to a load of re-enactment type meets. " Xander shrugged. "I always wanted to impress the nearest thing I had to a functional father figure so I practiced and won the lassoing, mechanical bull, fast draw, and rifle shooting contests for the state at under-11s and under-14s." Giles nodded at Xander's explanation. If nothing else that ensured Xander had useful skills for such a mission.

"Anybody in particular might be looking for these weapons?" Connor queried.

Giles grimaced at the question. "Everybody and anybody in the know in the supernatural world. The Fae Elders, Wolfram &amp; Hart, the White Council, the Wessen Royals, perhaps a rogue Power That Be attempting to use the weapons to twist creation to their whim. Even the Watchers Council of that day."

"You mentioned the Council, they'll be on our side won't they?" Connor looked around at everybody's chuckles. "Did I say something funny?"

"The Council of today bears little or no resemblance to the Council of yesteryear," Giles replied. "They have more in common with the Shadow Council than us. And would try and kill either you or Faith the moment they discovered your past, either Faith as a rogue Slayer or Connor as the child of two vampires." Giles paused. "With the damage these weapons are doing to the timeline, we can't entirely be certain just how similar the time we'll be sending you to will be to recorded history."

"Don't we have treaties with the Fae Elders, White Council, and Wessen Royals?" Wood asked.

"Recent treaties," Giles corrected. "Treaties we didn't have in the 1880s. And treaties they'd be all too willing to ignore to get their hands on artefacts as powerful as the Weapons."

"Won't the Horsemen themselves be a problem?" Kennedy queried. "I mean everybody knows me as somebody who likes a challenge, but the Horsemen? I'd sooner take on an Old One!"

"I wouldn't worry about them," Giles replied. "As long as you don't attempt to destroy the  
weapons, thus loosening their grip on this plane of existence, they won't be interested in you. But if you did try something like that," Giles shook his head, "we'd barely be insects to them."

"Geez," Faith rasped, eyes filled with dark amusement, "you're not one for inspiring talks are you?"

"He's no Vince Lombardi," Xander agreed.

Giles let out a long suffering sigh. "Can we please focus?"

"How's about this for focus," Faith drawled. "Not that I'm noble and self-sacrificing and all that, but how do we return to our time? I kinda like running water, tampons," the Slayer grinned impishly at his instinctive shudder, "and cable tv."

"Ah yes," Giles nodded. "The spell is designed that the moment you or anybody fulfils the task you were sent back to do, namely the Sealing of the Weapons, the spell ends, sending you back to the caster's time and location." Giles paused for a moment before delivering the sting in the tail. "However if you don't find all of the weapons or worse, a competing party takes all the weapons but choses to use them individually rather than Seal them, you'll never be able to come back."

Connor whistled. "That's a heck of a kicker."

"How about thinking outside the box?" Riley spoke up suddenly. "We know where the Seal is, how about taking the Weapons out of it in the now?"

"There's a number of problems with that unfortunately," Giles replied. "The Seal will automatically open up for the Weapons to be placed in it. However we have no way of opening the Seal ourselves apart from the darkest of dark magics. Even if we do get it open, it's extremely hazardous to go inside. And finally, there's so much accumulative damage already been done to the world, simply removing the Weapons won't repair the wounds."

"And what about equipment, weapons, clothing, so we don't stick out?" Kennedy asked.

Giles directed a look at Andrew. "My very capable assistant already has that in hand, he's contacted currency dealers and ensured the purchase of six thousand dollars in old currency to be split between the five of you, a selection of weapons of the time, clothing, and equipment. However I'd suggest you take medicinal drugs, matches, torches etc of this time to make things easier."

Faith grunted, her expression uneasy. "Time travel it is then. When do we leave?"


	3. Chapter 3

**3.**

"Mr. Giles have you heard the news?"

Giles looked up as Andrew hurried into his office, heart dropping as he noted the younger man's ashen face. "Is something wrong with the mission?"

"No," Andrew shook his head, "there's been another terrorist attack, this one in Auckland. And an earthquake in Albania."

"Bloody hell," Giles shook his head before steeling the younger man with a stern look. "Buck up, lad. If this mission goes well, it'll be a better world, maybe one where this attack never happened."

"Of course, sir." Andrew nodded, resolution firming his expression.

"When will the plane be ready?" Giles queried. To his mind, the previous Council's purchase of half a dozen Bae Jetstreams had been an unnecessary extravagance. However he couldn't argue against their usefulness stationed around the world for the use of teams to use in emergencies.

"Two hours sir." Andrew replied. "I've informed the Protection Team to be ready with five tinted-windowed limos. I thought we could go in the second and fourth cars this time, sir."

"Very efficient."

* * *

Over The Atlantic

"So," Kennedy broke the long silence that had started when their flight had taken off, "time travel spell, that's audacious even for you."

Willow smiled weakly. "I've gone over the theory, the maths is sound. This should work."

Should work. Kennedy hid a scowl at Willow's lack of confidence. Something she'd gotten used to over the last few years, but was hardly reassuring when you were going to be the subject of one of her spells. "So how many times has this spell been done before?"

"Time travel?" Willow let out a nervous laugh. "It's never been tried before."

Kennedy stared back at her girl-friend. "Great."

* * *

Washington DC.

It was a peaceful airfield surrounded by a high chain-mesh fence with surveillance cameras on top, and with a small aerodrome on either side of its solitary runway, as well as a three storey control tower\office at the runway's far end. "Girls here yet?"

Xander shook his head at Faith's query as he stepped off the plane's steps and onto the warm-underfoot tarmac. "Can't see them here."

Suddenly the world seemed to slow to a crawl as a missile flew out of a third floor control tower window and crashed into the plane he'd just disembarked from. The earth seemed to shudder beneath him as his ears exploded and he was forced to turn his face away from the sudden ball of fire engulfing the plane.

Xander's heart dropped as he looked around and realised Giles, and Andrew had to have been still on the plane. A scream tore from the bowels of his tortured soul as he sprang towards the plane only to be hit by a waist tackle that dumped him on the ground. He tried to shove his tackler off only to be stopped by Connor's urgent whisper. "Gunfire! You do not want to be getting up right now!"

Xander's gaze shot left and right, all it took was a quick glance to confirm the hybrid was correct. Not only had their attackers commandeered the control tower, but they were also streaming out of the aerodromes to the left and right, catching their exposed group in a murderous crossfire, proof of their guns' effectiveness the torn-apart corpse of Wood bleeding his last on the tarmac.

* * *

Toni screeched the Council SUV to a halt outside the airfield, eyes widening with horror as she saw the fireball that had presumably been the Council plane and the people who'd just travelled on it pinned down between two gun-wielding teams. "We need to get out there and help our people!"

"They've got guns!" Clarissa responded. "I want to help, but we don't even have a pocket knife!"

"No," Maddie shook her head, "but we've got those weapons that Mr. Wells ordered in the trunk. And they work."

Toni grinned at her best friend as she flung the car door open. "Let's get to it, girls."

* * *

Willow let out an indignant scream as she stared at the fireball that contained her mentor. Pain blazed through her then hardened into cold, icy rage. Before she knew she was up, a target that bullets bounced off thanks to her magical force-field, her eyes and hair blackening as she shook with fury. Energy crackled between her fingers as she pointed towards the control tower. "Tired of you!"

The tower crumpled like a stamped on soda can. Glass exploded from its windows as the three storey building collapsed in on itself, steel girders, and concrete walls no protection against a witch's rage.

Then Willow crumpled to the ground, sweat shining on her suddenly ashen skin as she shook mightily, struggling against both the violence of her spell and the darker side of her nature. The normal colours returned to her hair and eyes as she forced her emotions back under control.

* * *

Faith peered up from her position sprawled hugging onto the tarmac like it was a life preserver, desperate for something, anything to fight back with. But things didn't look good, out in the open with little or no cover, no weapons, and armed men to the left and right pinning them down. Worse, it looked like Red, their heavy hitter, had shot her load taking out the rocket launcher crew, and was hanging on to her sanity by a thread. Willow could probably wipe their heavily armed attackers out in a blink of her eye, but given that magical acts of destruction set off Willow's inner bad girl, they'd only have to face her afterwards.

But then Faith's heart soared as she saw a trio of riflemen, no make that riflewomen on top of the right aerodrome firing over them and at the men coming out of the left aerodrome while pairs of revolver-wielders came around either side of the right aerodrome, their fire cutting the gunmen down before they even knew they were there. In seconds the last of the men crumpled to the ground, their blood staining the ground.

Flames of the bombed airplane still crackling in the background, Faith leapt up and ran over to her rescuers. "You did real good, girls," Faith praised before hurrying back and checking if there was anything that could be done for Wood, but her ex had been shredded by the bullets. "Fuckin' terrorists!" she cursed as she impotently kicked the ground.

"This wasn't a terrorist attack," Riley declared as he finished the inspection of the corpses and rose.

"How can you be sure?" Faith stepped away from a shaking Xander to stand alongside the soldier.

Riley grimaced at her proximity but his answer was civil enough. "Their haircuts for one, too short, too military. Plus," he crouched alongside the nearest body and pointed at a tattoo on the man's bulging bicep, his arm thicker than her thigh, "there's the tattoo."

Faith peered at it. "Semper fi. So?"

"It means 'always faithful', and it's the motto of the US. Marines, and I also saw another with the tattoo of 'Sua Sponte', that's the motto of the US. Rangers. The others don't have any identifying marks but I'd guess they're former military too."

"So you're saying they were mercenaries?" Connor broke in. "Hired by who?"

"No papers on them to say who they were hired by," Riley replied. "Smart money is it being a hit on Gi-, the Council leadership, so has to be Wolfram &amp; Hart or the Shadow Council."

"We need to get outta here 'fore the police turn up, things could get messy," Faith declared, especially with her record and the police's heavy-handedness these days. "Ken, you take care of Willow," the red-haired witch had all but collapsed in a sobbing heap. "Xan," noting Xander's glassy-eyed expression, Faith changed what she was going to say, turning instead to her Slayer team, "Toni, Maddie, take care of Harris. Let's hustle people."

* * *

Xander didn't look up as the hotel room door creaked open. "Hey." When Faith didn't receive an answer she continued. "The girls did well didn't they? Really saved our asses." Faith sighed when he didn't reply but continued, her tone containing a note of forced brightness. "Conn can fast-draw to a 5th of a second, Ken and I are a draw at a 6th of a second." Faith let out an uncomfortable laugh. "We ain't fast son, we're sudden! Audie Murphy would shit if he ever saw us draw." Faith sighed when he still didn't speak. "Xan, we're doing the spell tomorrow, you have to at least try out the weapons, decide what you're comfortable with."

Finally Xander looked up and stared at his girl-friend. "If there's a pair of Peacemakers, I'll take them."

"Is that what you used at the re-enactments?" Faith groaned when Xander nodded. "Xan, honey. I know you're hurtin', I know what G meant to ya, both ya and Willow, Lil Sis too. But you gotta talk 'bout it. If not to me, then at least to them." Faith waited then continued. "Well at least get ready for the spell, we're doin' it tomorrow night."

The words burst out of him like water from a cracking dam. "Giles was the first person, the first grown-up to see anything in me, anything more than the son of the town drunk."

"Hey," he felt Faith's arm snake around his shoulders, "he might have been the first to see somethin' in you, but he was far from the last. 'Sides, we do this right and we might get him back." Xander's head lifted, remaining eye widening. "Heh, you hadn't thought of that had you?"

Xander refused to acknowledge the hope suddenly lightening his heart. "I suppose I better get ready."

* * *

In what had turned out to be one of the last of a series of wise decisions, Andrew had stayed away from selecting either Confederate or Union clothing for any member of the time-travelling team, seeking to avoid alienating the other half of the nation.

Faith was wearing a black soft gambler's hat, matching knee-length canvas duster, black pants tucked in dark grey calf-skin boots, a black shirt, and a leather holster filled with a Colt Peacemaker hanging low on her right hip. Her other weapons included a Bowie knife sheathed on the opposite hip and a Winchester '73 slung over her left shoulder.

Kennedy had selected a brown Stetson, brown canvas trousers tucked into brown cowboy boots, and a brown leather vest over a black and white striped shirt, while also wearing a leather holster with a S&amp;W Model 3 on her right hip. She also had a Bowie knife sheathed on her opposite hip and had a Winchester '73 slung over her shoulder.

Riley was wearing a brown Stetson and matching buckskin trousers and shirt. He was wearing a leather holster with a Remington Model 1875 on his left hip and a cavalry sabre scabbarded on his right, while cradling a Henry 1860 rifle in his hands.

For his part, Xander had selected a blue bib shirt and matching wranglers as well as matching Stetson and waistcoat, in addition to wearing a full-length dark grey duster. Xander had gone for dual cross-draw holsters, carrying a pair of Colt Peacemakers.

Finally Connor had decided on a brown leather vest over a black striped shirt, matching canvas pants tucked into cavalry boots, and a black Stetson. He'd also elected to wear dual cross-draw holsters, carrying a pair of Remington 1875s. Additionally he had a Bowie sheathed in his right boot and carried a Henry 1860 rifle in his hands.

Willow stared at the group, burning their image into her mind so if anything went wrong she'd at least have this last memory. Finally she nodded, the taste in her mouth souring. "Let's get this spell done shall we?"


	4. Chapter 4

**4.**

Washington D.C.

Xander blinked and reached back to grab the alley's wall to steady himself, his legs rubbery and head spinning after their disconcerting voyage through time, the journey an accumulation of dizzying flashes\images, watching history unfold in reverse. The moment his head cleared, Xander looked up to feel the night's cool, refreshing air on his face. And gasped as he took in the starry skyline, belatedly registering just how few of the landmark skyscrapers and buildings were there. "Wow," Xander shook his head and tried again, but the vista remained unchanged. "Guess we're not in Kansas any more, Toto."

"You notice how quiet it is?" Connor suddenly commented. "Even at night there'd be noise, cars, buses, trains, the sound of concerts, heavy industry."

"Yeah, that's another thing," Faith inhaled deeply, shapely chest expanding. "Damn, that air tastes good, real fresh."

"It should," Kennedy commented, "the roads are almost empty."

"We're not sight-seers people, we have a mission," Riley grunted.

"Right," Xander nodded. "Faith, Ken, you're with me, we'll find the museum and steal the gun. Riley, you and Conn get us five tickets on the first train to New Orleans. Then we'll meet you at that hotel across the road." Xander pointed at a grey-bricked 3 storey boarding house with a whitewashed stepped entrance across the road.

* * *

New York

Marcus sipped delicately at his fresh-ground coffee, the beans' strong aroma rising into his flared nostrils even as he watched his guest stride across the busy, upper-class teahouse's floor and towards him. His guest was a short man in a rough-cut suit and bowler hat, a short man but one with a blacksmith's shoulders and chest, his dark, deep-set eyes were constantly moving, and the flattened nose of a practiced pugilist, an assumption that was backed up by the latticework of scars covering his swollen knuckles. The man stopped at his table and stared at him for a long second before speaking, his voice throaty. "Len Denton, I represent Mr. Allan Pinkerton and his company," the man paused. "May I have a seat?"

Marcus nodded. "By all means."

The powerfully-built Pinkerton sat down. "Your contract is one of the more unusual my employer's company has ever been offered. However your employer's reputation for the odd is well-known. As is its generosity, so we're more than ready to accept and complete your contract."

"Excellent," Hamilton smiled. "Have your men ready to leave in the morning. I'll meet them at the railway station."

Denton raised an eyebrow. "You comin' west with us? Only beggin' my pardon for my bluntness, the west is civilised some, but it still can be a rough place for greenhorns. 'Appen you'd be smart to leave this job for us to finish on your behalf?"

Marcus managed not to smirk. "I've been west a time or two." He might look like a dandified gent in his mid-late thirties, but Marcus' origins went back far before this new world. Although in the recent past he'd been the force behind the disappearance of the Roanoke colony, the start of the American Revolution, and the Texas War of Independence, all actions he'd undertaken to further the interests of business concerns and clients of his firm, his origins long pre-dated the New World. Originally he'd been a minor warlord in the service of Attila the Hun, his craftiness, ruthlessness, and martial skill bringing him to the attention of Wolfram &amp; Hart who offered him immortality and power beyond his wildest dreams in return for his service.

And this mission would be just another step in ensuring his rise up the ranks and in turn, his firm's supremacy in the decades to come.

* * *

Boston

The man who strode through the smoky Boston bar was tall and broad-shouldered with hard eyes beneath thick grey eyebrows, and a lantern jaw with an ugly knife scar running down his left cheek. Various toughs lurking in the bar's dark corners eyed him, but his healthy tan and air of unassailable confidence caused them to give him a wide berth. "Travers? Sirk?" He waited a beat for them to acknowledge their identities before announcing his own and sitting. "Colonel Sebastian Moran, 1st Bangalore Pioneers Retired."

"I assume by your arrival here this job is agreeable?" Travers snapped.

Moran's smile didn't reach his flinty eyes. "I'm here aren't I? There aren't many clean jobs offering the sorta money you lads are offering."

"Your skills as a tracker and a sharpshooter make you a man of renown at the Diogenes Club, just the sort of man we need for the job," Sirk replied. "The first half of your payment has already been credited to your account." Sirk pushed a thick envelope across the worn table. "Here are your agreed expenses. I trust that will be enough to hire any assistance you require. Alternatively, we've travelled here with a number of our operatives. You could borrow them if you want?"

"Dr. Moreau has already been most helpful in that area, supplying me with a number of his creations." Moran rose. "If that'll be all my friends, I'll be on my way."

"I don't like working with him," Travers commented to his companion the moment the bar's door slammed shut behind their hireling. "He might have held the rank of Colonel, but the man's nothing more than a scoundrel and a thug. Why didn't we go with Roxton or Quatermain? Men of quality!"

"I can appreciate how you feel," Sirk replied. "The only problem is, neither would agree to work with us. And both are placed too highly in society for us to pressurise or move against."

"Well," Travers huffed as he rose, "Moran has a certain directness to him. He'll do in a pinch."

Sirk smiled slightly. "At least we can leave this godforsaken nation and return home now."

* * *

Toronto

The woman sat on the throne was breathtakingly beautiful, a brunette with flowing locks, fine cheekbones, rich red lips, and luminous dark eyes. She looked to be only in her late twenties, but the truth was far stranger and far more complicated than that.

As Morrigan, she was the leader of the Dark Fae in her territory. It was a position of great power, but one constrained by the laws of her people and the whims of the Fae Elders. And if there was one thing she couldn't stand it was being beholden to anybody, moreover she wasn't about to settle to one Dark Fae territory when she could have it all, all Dark &amp; Light Fae territories under her iron grasp.

But first, she needed the Weapons of the Apocalypse.

To get them she intended to send her two major enforcers, a tall, lean male whose dagger-sharp features were framed by his flame-red locks, while his disturbingly feline eyes were set deep within his face. Brimstone was a Fire Fae, with the powers over fire.

The second of her enforcers was a short thin woman with wild eyes, sunken cheekbones, crooked teeth, and an ungainly nest of cloud-grey hair. Bluster was a Storm Harpy, a weather witch with the ability to manipulate lightning and wind.

Together with these two, she intended to send some muscle, a quartet of Beserks. Unfortunately she had information that other interested parties were ahead of them, and so she'd send the group over the ghost roads to catch up.

She doubted they'd enjoy the trip, but comfort wasn't important, only results.

* * *

A Castle In The Foothills of the Austrian Alps

"Come in."

Klaus opened the door and strode in, the crackle of the study's open fire set by the door and opposite the formidable desk the first he noticed. It was a study to rival any other, the walls were covered with shelves bending under the weight of the first editions stuffed upon them and the space on the opposite side of the door to the fireplace was occupied by a table with a grandiose globe stood upon it. The desk itself was wide and antique-looking, yet pristinely maintained despite its age, with three columns of neatly stacked papers, a quill pen with ink well, and writing pad stood upon it. The man sat in the brown upholstered chair behind the desk was immaculately dressed in a velvet smoking jacket, complete with silk cravat. He was a tall thin man with iron-grey parted hair, deep-set grey eyes, hollow cheekbones, and a pointed chin. Klaus nodded respectfully as he took up position opposite the man. "Your majesty."

"Klaus? I trust our agents are in play?" The king's voice rasped, like a knife being dragged over gravel.

"Yes sire," Klaus was certain to keep his eyes averted, conscious that to invite the merest suspicion of disrespect was also to invite his host and employer's violent rage. "I received a telegram to that effect just two hours ago."

The king stared at him, keen eyes taking in every detail. "And what sort of wessen are our agents on the ground?"

"A trio of Hundjägers and a pair of Mauvais Dentes. Their leader's an old trainee of mine, a Lowen by the name of Édouard Carpentier. Dealt with that business in France five years ago, and that Balkans mess last year. Good man."

"All very deadly," the king nodded, "your agents mustn't fail, Klaus. This is very important for the Renard family. With these artefacts in our possession, our family will finally be the one in control, the first amongst the Seven Houses!"


End file.
